


Vixen

by WinterDuchess



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie), F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-09 06:36:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15261546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterDuchess/pseuds/WinterDuchess
Summary: Vivian Eve Donovan. Super Soldier. Former Hydra Agent. Former Avenger. M.R.I.G.A. Founder.After the fiasco with Loki in New York, Vivian moves to her native land of Ireland and spends years building an empire. With friends as her allies, and family as her supporters, Vivian is happy for once in her life. However, once her past begins to haunt her dreams, Vivian is forced to face the decisions of her past. The Winter Soldier is a wanted man by the UN, and Vivian is compelled to protect her old comrade. She faces the wrath of the UN for interfering, demands for her arrest, and Hydra coming back for vengeance.Sacrifices will have to be made, the only question is whose lives will Vivian risk: Family? Friends? Comrades? Herself? Or even a love interest?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> If a character is speaking another language, I'll put the translation in parentheses. If the translation is wrong or incorrect, I do apologize. I used a website to translate stuff.

Pain. Creeping at first, like a predator stalking its prey, before spreading through the nerves like wildfire and transforming from dull to burning. The blue serum that was injected through the vein was numbing within the first few minutes, like an anesthetic, then grew to a heat so intense the desire to tear the skin off grew. The blood became closer to lava with its temperature. The tips of the hair felt singed. Pupils grew. Goosebumps spiked across the body. Teeth clenched so hard it felt they would shatter. Muscles underneath the skin pulsated and hardened. 

Then, nothing.   
  
The first noise to echo through the dark room was someone gasping. The air was taken in and out with greed until it calmed. Cold, pale marian blue eyes flickered around, seeing a group of scientists scrambling to write on their clipboards before focusing on a pair of faded blue eyes. The owner of such eyes had sandy ginger hair and wore a three-piece suit. 

“Agent X?” the man asked cautiously. 

“Yes, Mr. Pierce?” the woman replied in a monotone. 

“Status report,” Pierce stated, looking at her. 

“I’m claustrophobic in these fucking restraints,” she growled. “Where are  **my** weapons?”

Pierce’s brows rose in surprise at the hostility that raged in the agent’s voice. The serum must have imbalanced her hormones to spike the anger. He waited a moment before snapping his fingers and waving at the scientists. One with glasses hurried over, having two colleagues follow him with a briefcase. A lock was undone, and the briefcase hissed as air escaped it. When it was opened, a pair of sleek, metal cuff bracelets were revealed. The scientist with glasses carefully walked over to her, undoing her confinements once her weapons were shown to her. 

There was a soft hum as she lifted one from its casing. It was lightweight and smooth. It locked into place over her stealthsuit, molding well with the rest of her sleeve. She repeated the action with the other cuff, then slide her knives into their holders. Her cool gaze held a hand out as she was given a gun with a silencer for an added measure. The loaded weapon was then seated in its holster. 

“Those bracelets are made out vibranium. Durable. Lightweight. Bulletproof,” Pierce described. 

“Vibrator-um? Never heard of it. What’s so special about them?” the woman asked, tapped her forearms together to make the metal hum. 

“Vibranium,” Pierce said through a tight jaw. “It is the strongest metal on Earth.” 

“Ah,” she stopped messing with her new weapons and looked at Pierce. “Do you have his coordinates?” 

“They are in your jet.”

“Understood,” she nodded. “Hail Hydra.” 


	2. M.R.I.G.A.

_ Blood. The scarlet liquid glistened as the moonlight illuminated the room.  It was overwhelming the room. Smeared on the walls. Soaking into the sheets. Staining the skin. The scent rustic and suffocating the atmosphere. There was a blaze of ginger hair, which was now crusted with red. The owner of the ginger hair was tied to his bed, wearing only crimson dyed underwear. His body was littered in light grazes and deep gashes. The cuts were precise and clean. The only marks that were orderly were ones on his torso. It made out a word, or moreso, a name. Vixen.  _

_ “Wir sehen uns in der Hölle (I’ll see you in Hell),” he spat, the light in his dark brown eyes fading. _

_ “Sag ihnen wer hat dich geschickt (Tell them who sent you),” the woman replied.  _

_ The man’s body then stilled. The scene was doused in gasoline. The walls, sections of the bed, parts of the man’s form. The only focus of his body that was washed in the flammable fluid was his groin. The one wall that wasn’t drowned in liquid was the wall that the bed was pressed against. There was another word. It was written on blood. It wasn’t seen until a match was lit and the flame was set. Traitor.  _

 

*******

 

A jolt coursed through Vivian’s spine, and she sat up in a cold sweat. She was panting, still feeling the effects of her vivid dream until she realized where she was. She was in her office. The modern black furniture. The light gray walls. The full bookcases. The windows that let the rising sun’s light wash into the room. The familiarity allowed her to relax. Her breath escaped past her soft lips, allowing her heart to settle. It seemed like another late night had caused her to sleep in her office, which meant another night that her couch served as her bed. 

“BRIG, what time is it?” the woman asked in an Irish accent, brushing her ash brown bangs out of her face. 

“It is 5:46am, Director Donovan,” a robotic female voice answered in a more defined Irish accent. 

“What time is Jo comin in?”

“Deputy Director Ricci is scheduled to come in at 9:00am.”

A soft groan left Vivian at that announcement. She didn’t want to wait three hours for her business partner to arrive, but she also wasn’t going to bother her at this time. Instead, she let out an annoyed huff and pushed off the couch. She padded to the door that was beside her bookcase, walking into her personal bathroom. There was a hiss that escaped her as her pantyhose covered feet touched the cold tiles. She shedded out of her clothes, letting it fall into a pile before getting into her shower. The cold water began washing away her sweat and the vividness that still flashed back to her dream when her eyes closed. 

After her shower, Vivian changed into her spare change of clothing. It was a simple, knee-length dress that hugged her figure, and had a belt around her waist. She wiggled into her stilettos, then locked her vibranium bracelets into place. Her damp locks were weaved into a braid as she dropped into her cushioned desk chair. Her paperwork was still scattered like she had left it last night, and Vivian attempted to refocus. She flipped through files, signed off on reports to complete them, and reorganized folders. She was just getting into the flow of it when her A.I. interrupted her. 

“Deputy Director Ricci has just walked into her office. Smith, Harris, Cortez, and Becker have also arrived, and many other officers are clocking in.”

“Lit. Tell em all to meet in Conference Room A50, and call Uncle Bryce to let him know we are bout to begin,” Vivian put her pen down and spun in her chair, getting up. “Cancel any appointments until the meeting ends.”

“Of course, Boss.”

Each member had their respective seat. On the left-hand side of the table sat three different women. The farthest from the head of the table was Alma Cortez: a genius Latina who was reserved and was the Head of the Technology department. In the middle was Dakota Harris: a half-blooded Native American who had an extensive knowledge of chemicals, and was the college roommate of Vivian. Then, there was Ally Smith: a dark-skinned medic, who led Vivian’s on-field medics and doctors. On the right-hand side, across from Dakota, sat the only man in the group, Markus Becker: a mechanic with unparalleled skills. The one who sat directly to Vivian’s right was fellow founder: Jo Ricci. Jo is a field agent with extensive skills, though specializes in undercover work, and is the childhood best friend of Vivian.   
  
The quiet conversations were stopped when a screen popped up. On the other side of the screen was a man with dark gray hair. He had wrinkles around his tired eyes. He wore a clean suit, and sat at a large oak desk. There was a file open in his hands, and he nodded a silent greeting to each. His gaze held with Vivian’s for only a moment longer than the others before clearing his throat to signal that he was ready to start. 

“What’s the first item of business?” Vivian asked, looking to Jo. 

“Our recovery units that were stationed in Sokovia have finally pulled out,” Jo announced, a slight southern tone in her American accent. “It took a bit longer than a year, but the city has managed to rebuild with our aid. It took a lot of our resources, but we can remake our losses.”

“How much was lost?” President Donovan asked.

“We lost 251304.64 Euro.” after a pause, Jo noticed the confused looks on Ally and Dakota's faces. “Which is 293,000 dollars.” 

““We can make that up with ease. Send a unit of trainees to America, and keep them there for a month. We’ll be able to double our losses,” Vivian instructed, looking across the table to her uncle. 

“I agree with Vivian, but send someone to overlook the trainees. A slip-up could cause tension between our two countries,” Bryce replied. “Second order of business?”

“The Avengers. They have changed over the year as well. Stark has become an active duty, non-combatant, Barton has retired, and Dr. Banner has gone into hiding. Thor, we believe, has returned to his homeworld of Asgard. The replacements for them are: Sam Wilson aka Falcon, James Rhodes aka War Machine, Wanda Maximoff aka Scarlet Witch, and The Vision,” Jo listed. “The two that concern us are Maximoff and Vision. Maximoff is an enhanced in a neuro-sense. She has telekinesis. The Vision, is a creation of Stark’s and Banner’s. He is an A.I. with free-will. Ally and Alma know more on him.” 

“Vision is only alive by a source of power. The gem in his head is known as the Mind Stone. It is not from our world, and we believe it powered Loki’s staff way back when you were an Avenger, Viv,” Alma reported. 

“If the Mind Stone is removed from Vision, he will die. The stone provides a great amount of power, and if Vision ever becomes an enemy, there is no way to defeat him,” Ally finished. 

“However, the Avengers seem to know how dangerous Vision is, because the only public appearance he has made was in Sokovia. At this moment, I don’t think Vision is a threat, and he shouldn’t be considered one,” Markus added. 

“Dakota, what are your thoughts?” Vivian asked. 

“The bigger threat is Maximoff right now,” Dakota answered. “Vision is a threat for the future, but Maximoff is the main threat.” 

Vivian, Jo, and Bryce listened to every opinion patiently before there was a reaction from Vivian. She sighed and leaned back in her chair. Her eyes were cold, and there was a disapproving look in her face. The look made everyone in the room feel like they were a child being scolded by their parent. Even Bryce felt a chill course through his spine. The silence that carried in the room was weighted, and cold. 

“You’re all wrong. If you read your reports you would be able to see the obvious,” Vivian stated. “Maximoff and Vision are both the outcasts of this new Avengers. Romanoff and Rogers are both hand-to-hand specialists while Wilson and Rhodes are both weapons experts and pilots. Maximoff and Vision are basically supernatural beings and are the strongest of the Avengers. That creates a bond between them. They will protect each other so they aren’t alone.” 

“Viv is right,” Jo sighed. “Besides, the point of M.R.I.G.A. was to clean up after the Avengers like we did with Sovokia and be an intelligence agency. The Avengers aren’t our enemy.” 

“I also agree with Vivian. Making the Avengers our enemy is dangerous. It could cause a war. Keep watch, but never engage unless Vixen or Scout are present,” Bryce ordered before looking up. There was a small sigh from him before looking back at the screen. “I have another meeting to attend. Handle it without issue, Viv.” 

“Always do,” she replied back swiftly. 

“Love ya, kiddo,” he laughed before the screen disappeared.   
There was a faint smile that illuminated Vivian’s face, feeling warm about the small interaction with her uncle. The smile faded quickly when Vivian flipped back to her business mode. Her pale blue eyes met Jo’s murky hazel ones, giving a nod for her to continue listing what needed to be discussed. The other items of business weren’t as pressing. It was small things with new recruits, progress on new prototypes, and field agents. The meeting was just about to end when Vivian’s A.I. suddenly spoke up. 

“Forgive me, Director Donovan, but there is breaking news that might interest you.” 

“What?” Vivian’s brows pushed together in confusion. 

The screen that once had her uncle on it now had a news report on it. The headline said: The Winter Soldier is in custody, and Captain America is a criminal. That headline alone made Vivian’s jaw clench, and her blood boiled. An urge that she hadn’t felt in a while erupted inside her, and Vivian’s lips pressed into a firm frown. 

“Ready my jet. Jo, you’re coming with me. The rest of you will await our return,” Vivian ordered, getting to her feet. “BRIG, contact Bryce and tell him I’m picking him up.” 


End file.
